


Desire, Hope and Promise

by AlexWSpark



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Fluff, Yusuke's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-02 19:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13325163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexWSpark/pseuds/AlexWSpark
Summary: Akira agrees to let Yusuke paint him...but he has a condition.





	Desire, Hope and Promise

**Author's Note:**

> My first soiree into Persona 5 was prompted by [this beautiful art](https://twitter.com/jumpforjoart365/status/948269406483828736) by the lovely jumpforjo! Hope you (and everyone) enjoys this fluffy little oneshot <3

It’s quiet in the attic.

Not the cacophonous kind like what he usual experiences on the subway, or the stoic kind that comes with those endless whispers behind his back. It certainly isn't the wrenching blow of having his pride mangled with by a supposed mentor.

Yusuke re-positions his easel and the small portable table holding his stock of paints for the hundredth time. There’s a light tremble in his fingers and an odd tingle dancing around his toes. It was never like him to feel such...things, not until Akira. _If only I could understand how to express this to myself. To_ him _. He is a masterpiece all his own. Will my art today ever be enough?_

He crosses to the larger makeshift table and sits on the worn-in couch, the graceful line of him sighing into a crossed leg that tenses with every ticking second; a minute in and it's as though he’s been doused in cement. It’s a deliberate stillness, one that is meant to slow the mad sizzle of anticipation that threatens to snap his nerves in two.

Because that’s what this quiet is - _hope._ Ever since Akira blazed into his life and pulled the canvas from under him, all the battles they fought and won, the shared thrill of victory and the cracks of despair, the kinship that blossomed so easily between them in the midst of it all…

...A single, sweet kiss that exploded more color and wonder and beauty into his life.

Yusuke bows his head gently, smiles with a soft indulgence that he can allow himself here. He painted _Desire and Hope_ with the intention of showing man’s duality, to bring light into the myriad darkness that people hold deep within themselves. His own desire and hope bloomed with the Phantom Thieves’ friendship and the many exploits they shared.

But this efflorescence in his chest, the fragrant burst of it next to his pounding heart...the first touch of brush to canvas can’t dream to outshine it.

Or perhaps, like with so many things that year, he’ll be proven wrong. Perhaps, his wish will come true and the two feelings will merge. Surely Akira, the man who dared to defy a god, has the power to make it so.

_I cannot deny it. It is impossible at this point._

There’s a a low _thunk!_ from the nearby bathroom, and a bit of extensive rustling before it all settles again. Yusuke lets the sound go, looking around instead, if only to distract himself a while longer. He has the space memorized to a fault. There’s a certain elegance in the dusty confines of Akira’s lodgings; sparse but neat, coarse in its decor but functionally caring. Akira’s luxury lies in no material possession; the only things on open display are the gifts he's received from his friends. No, his richness is purely of heart.

A door creaks open and Yusuke hears footsteps along the staircase. Akira appears at the top of it, eyes warm and cheeks flushed, a stark reverse from the unimaginably hypnotic smile and gaze he offered Yusuke two days before when they agreed to this afternoon together.

_“Sure. I'd love to be painted by you. But...I have a condition, if you don’t mind…”_

Said condition is concealed behind a midnight black overcoat, reminiscent of Joker’s extraordinary Thieves’ regalia. Yusuke takes to his feet, drawn to dark, disheveled hair and grey eyes glossed silver in the sunlight; he thrums, staring uninhibited at this unbelievably coy vision. There are artists who spend their whole existence searching for such a muse, the creative livewire that crackles with endless genius.

They stand apart, regarding each other softly, freely. It’s not that Akira has ever been inherently shy; gallant and gracious are much more apropos, even if he doesn’t always realize it. That Akira would give of his time like this, that he would suggest that Yusuke paint him _nude..._

“Please, take your time,” Yusuke says, and he means it, knows there’s no rush for them today. Akira nods and moves toward him, brushing ever so habitually against his arm as he takes his position a few paces back and to the left of the easel. He thumbs at the single secured button and looks at him with another one of those charming smiles, the brilliance of which goes straight to his eyes.

Yusuke wants - _needs -_ to focus. Akira has entrusted him with this intimate moment, shows no inhibition beyond the healthy pinks that skim his cheekbones and the shell of his ears. So, he does what he can, turns to face Akira, slides his fingers over the temples of his glasses and slips them off. It’s an aesthetic preference born from an impassioned memory - _“Begone,” Akira uttered the word and brought Yaldabaoth to his knees._ Every stray touch of skin is a conflagration and the heartened look that Akira gives him is yet another candid sign of who they are and...maybe...

“How would you like me?” Akira asks and Yusuke swallows around an extravagant expression of the many answers he has garnered for that question. Yes, he’s thought at length about having Akira as a subject, from the first day they went chasing his imagination in the depths of Mementos. At first, his observations of Akira were all from a purely artistic perspective, for the love his craft and the weight of a brush in his hand.

But then, on the eve of their plot to reveal Akechi’s scheme, Akira took his hand in the quiet of the cafe after requesting that he stay a little longer. Yusuke wasn’t unaccustomed to his touch - gentle, lingering things in and out of battle - and grew to treasure the closeness that his friend so willingly granted him. An admiring gaze followed the warmth of his fingers, and then Akira leaned in, finger a ticklish graze over his lip; “I wish I’d told you before” was all the prologue Akira gave before kissing him.

The epiphany was an evocative starburst, an unquestionable _want_ thundering after the chaste press of Akira’s lips.

“Yusuke?”

“My apologies,” Yusuke folds Akira’s glasses and places them carefully on the table, “I have a pose in mind but it would be more practical to show you. May I?”

“Please,” and without averting his eyes, Akira unfastens his coat, parts the lapels in a slow spread that complements his breathing, let's the fabric spill over his lean figure and pool exquisitely at his ankles.

Yusuke is faced with porcelain skin, blemished by the still fresh reminders of the World of Qliphoth. His eyes rove over Akira’s bare flesh, the svelte of him, how beautifully unarmed he allows himself to be. A blush rises high in Yusuke’s cheeks as his gaze dramatically falls to Akira’s slender thighs and... _and..._

His composure ripples, much like it had during their kiss. This is hardly the first time he’s worked with nude models and at no point during those past sessions did he study the human body beyond expressive purpose. But Akira’s body, all delicate curves and provocative dips, is a reverie in the making.

_The heart is akin to an abyss. That’s what I used to think but I was wrong. How does he always manage to invoke these emotions? Akira…_

“Are you okay?”

“I should be the one asking you that question,” Yusuke says, more breathlessly than he’s ever spoken in his life.

Akira tilts his head to the side, an affectionate gesture if there ever was one. The smile that accompanies it is no masquerade; there’ll be no inexplicable shift or subversion of Akira’s intentions, only a soothing sense of honesty. He never leaves any room for uncertainty and today, neither can Yusuke.

He takes a few steps back, thoughtful as he mimics the position he desires, “Fold your left arm behind you your head, like this. Let the other rest near your forehead. And please, relax.”

“I’m very relaxed,” and not an inch of Akira’s voice shakes the way Yusuke’s heart is currently vibrating, “Is this okay?”

“Almost…” Yusuke draws the word out into a hush. As Akira is, Yusuke’s ingenuity is properly swayed by his subject’s natural poise. He can see the painting taking shape in his mind; sublime brush strokes that incarnate Akira’s many personas, the palette that lights the truth in his eyes, unwavering lines that capture the subtle angle of his body.

But there are one or two things he can refine - the awkward placement of Akira’s fingers, the tendrils that obscure the handsome slant of his nose, the jut of his foot that is too much to the left…

“Touch me.”

Yusuke’s gaze snaps up to meet Akira’s questioning smile, “I'm sorry?”

“If you’re not satisfied with my pose, then fix me. _Show_ me. You have full permission to touch me whenever and however you want.”

“That is very...it is…” Yusuke clears his throat and wills rain over the desert that is his throat, “We can begin here. I will keep your proposal in- Akira _what_ -”

Akira shakes his head as he paces forward, catching Yusuke’s hands in his own; he places each on either side of him and steps back, taking Yusuke with him to his previous position.

“I asked you to paint me like this,” Akira says, fingertips trailing along the slope of his chin, “and I trust you to do what you need _and_ want to. As an artist. As my friend. As my…”

“As your…?” And Yusuke again acknowledges that avalanche of want and the few words that can possibly sate it.

“As _yours_.”

Akira can be so infuriatingly matter-of-fact sometimes that Yusuke’s usual reasoning becomes all for naught. He presses a little harder into Akira’s hips, digs deeper into his skin, lets himself fall into the gentle caress now exploring the column of his neck. The space between them fills with their exponential gravitation towards each other until Yusuke is _brimming_. Akira is a pleasant overlay of warmth and patience and freedom and, as they embrace, Yusuke makes the requisite amendment to his previous thought.

 _I cannot deny this. I cannot deny_ him.

“Okay?” Akira whispers, hair and lips and breath in ticklish unison against his jawline.

Yusuke sighs, inadvertently kisses a nest of raven hair, “As you wish.”

Things come naturally with that exchange. Yusuke goes willingly with Akira’s instructions, sets him reverently into the pose, makes the image in his mind a supple reality. By the end of it, Yusuke is fully aware of the parts of Akira’s body he’s yet to touch; and, by his pinched murmurs, wounded huffs, and ubiquitous flush, Akira also seems as knowledgeable as him.

There’s an arm’s length separating them as Yusuke gives his final judgement, pride flourishing at the realization that he was the key to drawing Akira’s fluster into the open. Akira doesn’t break his stance, but his eyes are blown into an endless night, gaze piercing and blistering and _pleading._ It’s...breathtaking. No one has ever looked at him that way, nor has he dreamed to have someone do so. Yusuke walks to the front of the easel and picks up his brush, emotions splashing chaotically as his heart indents his chest; _you will always be the exception to everything, won’t you, Akira?_

He looks up at a man doused in gold, a veil of natural light more ethereal than even Satanael’s manifestation. Yusuke breathes in the beauty, dips into the acrylic next to him, trails the first color along the canvas.

It’s quiet in the attic as he paints. Akira’s eyes never leave him, sentiments alight in his expression; Yusuke knows there’s no undoing that nonverbal eloquence and, for all his perfectionist tendencies, he doesn’t want to. Such affection...it’s inspired, thrilling, astride the line of soft and suggestive that’s absolutely meant for Yusuke and Yusuke alone.

Because that’s what the quiet is now and in perpetuity - a  _promise_.

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/AlexWSpark)   
>  [Find me on Tumblr](https://alexwspark.tumblr.com/)


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